CHAPTER TEN

Ignore it or ask? The two options whirled in Mir’s head. But they’d never been good at the omega virtues of acceptance, gratitude, and obedience.

“Tell me. Whatever it is, tell me.”

Tavish countered with, “Do you trust me?”

Answering a desperate demand with a question. It was such an alpha-ish thing to say. Other than screaming blue murder and getting the authorities involved, what could they do? The one thing Mir was certain of was that Tavish wasn’t part of Hell unless his acting ability was world-class. His anger at what had been done to Mir had been real, and no alpha from Hell would have resisted Mir’s attempts to elicit sexual contact. Tavish was hiding something—something big—something he assumed would change a lot of things, including their relationship.

The train rocked a little as it rattled over a small bridge. Mir sat back down and stared out the window. Yet again, choice had been taken from them, but perhaps it had always been an illusion. Ma had taught Mir to count their blessings. She always listed love, having enough food and clothes, and being warm. Compared to this time a year ago, Mir had all that, even if the only love they was sure about was their own love for the babies inside. Other blessings included not being chained, beaten, scared, and being without the heat implant and sedatives. Plus, Mir was healthy, lucid, and the babies were nearly old enough to survive if they were born. Plus, there were people around, who might or might not help if Mir asked for it. The ‘might’ was a huge improvement on ‘not in a million years’.

But Kev had helped Mir, even in Hell. Guilt swelled like a bloated corpse. Was Kev even still alive while Mir laughed and joked with Tav?

Their spirit had been broken, and they had been waiting numbly, hopefully, for death. The slide into the ‘sit and stare’ state, the one that other omegas had been in before they disappeared forever didn’t matter. Or it hadn’t until Kev dragged them kicking and protesting back to life.

Mir owed it to Kev, to the triplets, to carry on fighting, and if that meant shutting up for a while, they would suck it up. Mir’s neck itched with Tav’s attention, but he wasn’t forcing the issue, wasn’t demanding an answer. Perhaps because they both knew that the offer of choice was as permanent as mist on a summer morning.

If Mir kept their wits, maybe it would all work out, especially if this alpha kept believing Mir trusted him, and they did, as much as they trusted anyone. Tav wasn’t the only one who kept secrets. Mir didn’t know if Tav’s secrets were as necessary as theirs, but when it came down to it, they didn’t have a choice or any bargaining power.

“Yes, I trust you.” Mir kept their eyes downcast to conceal the blatant lie on their face.

A hand rubbed Mir’s arm, telling them that at least this time, they’d managed to fool an alpha. There was no thrill, no pleasure, only a deep, dragging sadness that the growing trust between them had been broken by a few words. For a while, it’d felt like they had someone fully on their side. Someone who had a very skewed view of the world, yes, he said he’d treated abused omegas, but Mir bet he’d never seen anything like Hell.

Tavish had such high ideals and principles, but he had no power, no betas, just a kind spirit and so many delusions about the world, about Mir. In a way, Tav was nearly as naive as Mir had been before the world caught them in its clawed fist.

“I promise I’ll tell you everything soon,” Tavish continued, “but first, let’s get this visit over with. While we pass through these next few stations, we’ll pull the curtains so no one can see in, and I’ll stand guard at the door. If anyone tries to come in, I’ll move them on. Keep your face to the curtain.”

Nodding, Mir untied the pale blue cords holding the curtains on either side of the compartment window and slid them across. Tavish did the same on the corridor side and took up position by the compartment door. “Next time, I’ll book a suite, hang the expense.”

Mir managed a smile they didn’t feel then tensed as the train slowed as it came into Beddington, then stopped.

“Beddington, this is Beddington,” a beta voice cried outside.

Carriage doors opened and thudded as they closed, and in no time at all, a whistle sounded, and they lurched into motion again.

Mir didn’t know how long it’d take to get to Hartcote by train. The only time they’d gone to Beddington had been by bicycle, and it had taken two hours each way. The town hadn’t been much different from Mir’s, the same type of stores, a church, and a few pubs, but the people were strangers and that set Mir on edge. They’d completed the errand of collecting a saddle for a horse they was working for a neighbor and headed back to familiarity as fast as possible.

The Reeve farm was on the northern side of Hartcote, about two miles from the station. There wasn’t much between home and the outskirts of Beddington, except forest left for wildlife. Mir had spent many hours collecting firewood in those woods. At first, the young Mir had been proud to provide for their small family, but as time passed, resentment crept in as they realized that most people didn’t have to collect fallen branches to stop themselves from freezing in winter as their solar panels were well-maintained. The parts weren’t expensive, but Makish preferred to spend the money on whiskey.

Maybe Makish had thought the money he’d get from selling Mir would finally mean he could repair the panels. The thought of his disappointment, when he found the bathroom empty, warmed Mir’s chest until they remembered the owner saying Makish’s price had been a crate of whiskey. Cor and Tor would have frozen that winter, just as they’d always done.

Are they still there? The unwanted, hated, but so desperately needed thought invaded Mir’s head like alpha cocks had fucked Mir’s channel in Hell.

If I look, what will I see? In Mir’s mind, two betas, identical to how they remembered their siblings, but bigger, would be hanging on the fence. Mir would only see them for a second, but they would recognize them. Tor and Cor would start running, shouting, desperate to see Mir again.

Then they remembered how the twins had sided with Makish. No, the twins wouldn’t want to see Mir. If they bumped into each other in the street, Mir imagined they’d turn, hurry away, and pretend they’d never seen the person who raised them. The urge to peek through the curtain didn’t change. The farm might not even be in the family anymore. Makish might have drunk himself to death, and if either Tor or Cor had manifested as an omega, they could be with Caffish. If they remained betas, they might have become private tutors. Mir had certainly spent enough on their educations.

Tavish’s oddly cheerful voice broke into Mir’s thoughts. “Clayen will be waiting to pick us up when we get there. We’ll be off the train and into his buggy in a jiffy. And knowing Clay, they’ll have the fastest horse in the district. He always did like speed.”

There were around four more rural stations before they’d reach Malthus City, each a little posher, a little richer, than the last, as competition for the limited property available became fiercer.

“What station?”

The hesitation wasn’t a long one, but it was there. “Grabarton.”

Wealthy, prosperous. Mir shouldn’t have expected anything else. They tipped their chin up in acknowledgment as the intercom crackled to life.

“The next station is Hartcote. Passengers for Hartcote, please prepare to disembark.”

Mir closed their eyes and tried to stop their teeth gritting. The triplets didn’t need to experience their anxiety.

“Maybe I should have brought a flask of chamomile tea,” Tavish murmured.

Without opening their eyes, Mir gave him the finger, and Tavish huffed in amusement.

“That’s the Mir I know and love. Keep on fighting; we’ll get through this and be back home before you know it.”

At the word love, Mir opened their eyes, but Tavish’s broad back faced them as he watched the corridor for potential invaders of their tiny territory. Maybe Mir did trust him, just a little. More than a little. These swinging thoughts were dizzying. It hadn’t been like this in Hell. Mir knew who to hate back then. It had been easy, predictable.

The train decelerated, clanking, creaking, and hissing, then stopped. Mir froze. People who knew them were out there only feet, maybe only inches away. They’d call Makish, they’d take Mir back, take the triplets…

“Deep breath in… Deep breath out. Picture yourself in a happy place, a meadow, a riverbank, even the bench outside the window watching the chickens scratch about. In… and out. In… and out.”

Mir closed their eyes again and pictured sitting on the bench, but they wasn’t watching chickens. In their mind’s eye, Tavish, stripped to the waist, groomed one of the ponies with smooth, even movements as he murmured nonsense to the animal.

A whistle sounded, and the carriage jerked as the train pulled away from the station. No one had attempted to come into the carriage, or if they had, Tavish’s presence made them think better of it.

With every yard, the train moved farther from Mir’s childhood home. The knot of icy fear in their chest thawed a little more, but Mir still couldn’t bring themselves to open their eyes. The seat depressed beside them.

“We survived.” Tavish’s gentle sarcasm wrapped around Mir.

“I don’t know whether to climb on your lap and scent the fuck out of you or tear off your balls and leave you to bleed to death.”

A heavy arm snaked around their shoulder and pulled Mir’s unresisting body against his side. “About twenty months ago, I would have jumped at the latter option, without the dying part, but now, I do believe I’m becoming rather partial to the former.”

Without saying another word, Mir lifted their feet from the floor and over Tavish’s lap and rested their forehead on his shoulder. The pine with a hint of horse, musky scent infused into Mir’s body and soul.

“Tavish?”

“What?” His voice sounded almost as sleepy as theirs.

“Does pregnancy turn omegas extra moody?”

“Well, the scientific research states that—”

Mir poked his ribs, hard.

“Ow,” he said and rubbed at the spot, but he sounded amused more than anything.

“Just answer the question, Professor,” Mir murmured.

“I think you just answered it yourself, but usually, pregnancy makes people weepy, not violent toward their partner.”

Mir lifted their head. Even though the day headed into early evening, and the curtains were still closed, Tavish’s kind, dark eyes took all of Mir’s attention.

“Partner, not friend anymore?”

Tavish’s forehead wrinkled. “I thought ‘spouse’ was a bit old-fashioned for a modern person like you, but that’s how I feel. You, however—” he booped Mir’s nose “—can feel whatever you want.”

Mir rested their head back on his shoulder, and he put his chin on top of it. “Partner sounds good, but don’t get smug about thinking it up.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

The train swayed and clattered, almost like a rocking cradle. Minutes passed, and Mir drifted.

They jerked away at a touch on their shoulder as Tavish gently called Mir’s name. “Time to wake up sleepy head, we’re about to pull into our stop.”

Mir nodded, blinked, and opened their eyes wide, trying to persuade their warm body that it was awake. A back twinge from their awkward position soon convinced them of the fact. Scowling, Mir rubbed at the offending muscle.

“Bit stiff?” Tavish asked.

Mir shrugged and began to get to their feet.

“Ah ah, stay put until we stop. The last thing we need is you falling over. The size you are now, it could take a block and tackle to get you upright.”

Mir gaped at him.

“What?” he asked with an innocent expression. “If pregnant proto-alphas are allowed to get cranky, why can’t a beta-ish, soon-to-be parent, alpha, get in on the act?” Then he winked.

“I’m going off you,” Mir grumbled back, as Tavish showed off his stability, muscles, and height by retrieving their two cases from the racks above their seat. As before, he held them easily in one hand.

“Ready?”

“Nope,” Mir replied, “but let’s do it anyway.” Stepping out into the corridor and leaving their temporary sanctuary had Mir’s heart speeding up. There was no retreat from this; it had to be done, even though Mir’s fantasy was to hide on the train until it rumbled back to Langan sometime tomorrow.

Tavish stepped down onto the platform, but that one last step had Mir’s hesitating.

“Need a hand?” Tavish asked.

“Nope, I’ve been stepping out of doorways all on my lonesome for quite a while,” Mir replied and holding onto the doorway, carefully stepped down to the platform, even though they couldn’t see where their feet were going.

The station seemed much like the one in Langan and at Hartcote. One platform, a blue sign with the town name emblazoned in thick gold lettering, and a uniformed beta marching toward them with a green flag in one hand. As the beta passed, they slammed the door that Mir had left open and carried on to the back of the train. With a wave of the flag and a blast of their whistle, the train clanked and began to pull away.

The half dozen other passengers hurried toward the exit, which, like at Langan and at Hartcote as far as Mir could remember, was through a small stone building that acted as a ticket office and waiting room in poor weather, plus it housed bathrooms.

Despite sitting with their feet up for the last hour or so, Mir’s ankles itched due to swelling.

“How far is it to your place?”

“It’s not my place, not anymore.” Tavish’s confidence dialed down Mir’s worry about them not returning to Freedom Farm a little more. “I haven’t been back to the estate for a decade, but it’s about five miles.”

“Estate?”

Tavish winced at the sharp tone. “Didn’t I mention that my family is fairly wealthy?”

“Tav, over here!”

Mir turned to see Clayen waving at them from inside the station building.

“Damn, I thought I’d have more time to explain things.”

Mir’s jaw dropped. “A ten-hour train trip wasn’t enough? Seriously?”

“Did I ever tell you my full name?”

Mir wracked their brain and came up empty. They’d been so keen on hiding their own name, it hadn’t occurred to wonder about Tavish’s, but they was getting a bad feeling about this. “Don’t think so, why?”

“My family name, it’s erm… Grabar.”

Mir’s gaze shot to the gleaming station sign that stated Grabarton. “As in…”

“Afraid so, and my father is the head of the whole clan.”

Mir just stared at him, shocked down to their boots. Tavish was like, fucking royalty.

Tavish scratched the back of his head. “I thought you wouldn’t come if you knew.”

“Was this the thing you were hiding? You didn’t think I wouldn’t work out your family were filthy rich when we arrived at your estate?”

“Hey, Tav,” Clayen called out, “get a move on, places to be and all that.”

“I will pay you back for this,” Mir hissed as they both started walking toward Clayen. As they got a little nearer and Mir’s eyesight became sharper, they saw that Clayen wore dark blue tartan slacks with a wide, blood-red stripe. The pattern, apart from the blood-stripe, was familiar. The Grabars owned all of the canning factories in Malthusia. Every tin can in Malthusia boasted a square of that tartan.

“Can’t wait,” Tavish shot back as they walked through the station and back out into the early evening sunshine. The road in front was a crescent, set back from a larger road. Like most towns, the station seemed to be a little way outside the center, as buildings rose to two stories about a quarter mile away to the east.

Clayen had retreated back to a highly polished dark red phaeton carriage, pulled by a matched pair of bright chestnut horses that were almost the same color as Clayen’s hair. The light carriage was clearly built for pleasure, for speed, with four thin, large wheels and a light chassis. It had two bench seats, one up front and one behind, but both had fold-down hoods to shield the occupants from bad weather. The brass lamps hanging on the sides flashed in the sunlight, just like the gleaming brass buckles on the jet-black harness. Mir had never seen anything quite like it in real life.

The fine-boned animals tossed their heads, stomped their hooves, and rolled their eyes in distress at the noise around them. Mir couldn’t imagine anything further from Tavish’s sturdy, shaggy hill ponies.

“Bit flashy, isn’t it?” Tav commented as he stowed the bags behind the front seat; Mir couldn’t see a specific luggage space.

One of the horses reared up. Clayen hopped up onto the front seat and grabbed the reins. “Whoa there,” Clayen cried, tugging on the leather straps but it only seemed to piss the horse as it reared again.

Mir sauntered up to the gelding’s head. In all this weirdness and uncertainty, calming a scared horse was familiar and something they could do to prove to everyone around that they was more than a walking incubator.

“Stand back, he’s a biter,” Clayen warned. The people milling about backed off, most giving the dancing horse a wide berth.

“He’s frightened, and you’re making it worse with all your pulling,” Mir ground out.

“Mir,” the warning in Tavish’s voice was clear. “I know you know what you’re doing, but right now, right here,” he emphasized, “it might be better if you leave it to—”

Reaching out, Mir scratched the horse’s shoulder with two fingers. Then snorted at it, put their free hand flat on the gelding’s forehead, and pressed it down. Thirty seconds later, Mir was tickling its tongue, and the beast’s eyelids were drooping.

“What did you do to Blitzer?” Clayen said, voice filled with awe. “He looks as if he’s been tranquilized.”

“I just made friends,” smugness rang in Mir’s voice. “You stress him out.”

“He told you that?” Clayen asked in fascination.

Satisfied the horse had calmed, Mir wiggled their fingers at Clayen and strutted around to the side of the ridiculously impractical carriage where Tavish waited. “Yeah, I have magical horse mind-reading powers.”

Tavish offered his hand to help Mir into the rear, but they ignored it. Distancing themself from him around his family might mean Tavish wouldn’t be blamed so much when Mir mucked up, because they would. Mir didn’t have a clue how to behave in the kind of circles Tavish had experienced as a child, and even trying was a ridiculous idea.

“I bet you two have a lot of catching up to do. I’m a little tired, so why don’t you two sit up front and chat while I get a little rest? It’s been a long day.”

Clay raised their eyebrows at their sibling, but Tavish simply climbed up onto the driving seat beside them.

They were soon moving at a fast trot through the tree-lined roads of what appeared to be a far more prosperous town than where Mir had grown up. Even the side roads were paved rather than a mix of gravel and packed dirt. It all appeared very nice, too nice for the likes of Mir Reeve, let alone Four. What the hell had they got themself into?

“Did you get my certificate done?” Tavish asked. Mir’s focus shot to the siblings in front of them. Tavish getting a proving certificate was the first stage in ensuring the triplets would be legally safe.

“Oh, ye of little faith,” Clayen said airily. “What I promise, I always deliver. Although, as my certificates are not, technically, real, anyone searching the registry won’t find them. But, as I presume you don’t want to become a professional prover or register births with a bunch of omegas, you should be fine. Strutting around with obvious balls and a pregnant omega will stop any nosey parkers. Besides, would you want to be the one to tell father he’s been hoodwinked?”

Mir grinned as both siblings shivered in exactly the same way.

“They’re on the back seat in the leather case. I took the liberty of doing one for Mir too as a proving certificate hadn’t been filed for them either. Getting their guardian details without a family name or a date of birth took my contact at the registration office a lot longer, but, as usual, my persuasion skills were matchless. You owe me for a fancy restaurant dinner, but the rest of that night was on me. Literally. You’d think betas who do manual work are the most enthusiastic but give me a paper pusher every time. Those types are just so damn grateful.”

As Clayen carried on telling them about his player skills, Tavish butted in. “Why don’t we wait until…”

Mir already reached for the black leather wallet on the seat. With shaking hands, they opened it slowly. The two gilt-edged proving certificates were on different colored paper, one pink, one blue. Knowing the name of the omega Tavish supposedly impregnated didn’t interest them in the least, so they left that certificate in the wallet. The other, they drew out slowly, knowing it could shatter Mir’s happy fantasy future of going back to Langan with Tavish.

The name ‘Mirelle Grabar’ was central on the pink paper, written in fancy, curly script.

Previous names: Mirelle Doe. Mir Reeve.

The fucker actually did it.Makish had registered Mir’s manifestation, it was illegal not to, but he’d left their family name out, because he was too damn ashamed of having produced an omega. Mir had been cut out, forgotten, hidden like an embarrassing disfigurement.

DOB: February 27th 141

Singleton

Sire: Makish Reeve

Dam: Morelle Baldwin.

Mir stared at the family nameof their mother, of the bastards that had ripped her away from her children. Suddenly, Mir desperately wanted to know more about Ma. Was she still alive? Where had she ended up? Did she know what had happened to her children? They were all questions Mir might be able to investigate in the future, but Ma was in Mir’s past; the future was shifting inside them.

DOM: April 20th 158.

The date that had ended all Mir’s proto-alpha hopes and dreams, the effective date of Mir Reeve’s death.

Mir turned to the next line, working through the letters carefully.

Prover: Tavish Grabar: December 15th 168.

Result: Triplets to term. DOB: TBC

Tavish was officially the sire of the triplets. A smile tickled Mir’s lips andstress Mir refused to acknowledge burst like a soap bubble. The babies were safe. Legally, unless someone tracked them down and demanded a DNA test, they belonged to Tavish. They would grow up, with him, on Freedom Farm.

There was only one more thing Mir needed to check, their legal guardian. As Clay had sorted out everything else, Mir was sure this would be a formality.

Guardian at manifestation: Makish Reeve.

Relationship: Father.

~

Previous Guardians: Corish Reeve.

Relationship: Sibling.

Date of transfer: July 15th 164

~

Current Guardian: Tavish Grabar

Relationship: Mate

Date of transfer: December 15th 168

Mir read the second entry again.

And again.

The information didn’t seem to be going in. Cor had alphaed, and possibly the first thing they—no, he— had done was become Mir’s legal guardian, even though Mir had been missing for six years. Cor, the kid who liked to run naked pretending to be a dog, was legally their guardian and had chosen to protect his older sibling. Or had they?

Reality kicked in. Omegas couldn’t be without a legal guardian. If an alpha family member existed, guardianship would automatically be transferred to him, if the previous guardian died. Death, sell, or disown, those were the only ways to break a guardianship. Disowning would involve a court fee, something Makish would never waste his money on.

There was only one explanation. Makish is dead and Cor has alphaed. Mir rolled the words around in their head; it didn’t make them any more real. Cor was now Mir’s legal guardian as they’d automatically passed into his possession like all of Makish’s other assets and responsibilities.

“Mir? What’s wrong? Mir?” Tavish’s voice sounded as if it came from underwater. “Clay, stop the carriage. Now, damn it!”

The open carriage stopped so fast Mir nearly hit the back of the front seat, but they didn’t take their eyes off the paper.

Cor cared, at least enough not to disown them. Although with Mir missing, would it have been more trouble than it was worth to go through the paperwork? Did they both alpha? Did they throw a coin to decide which one would be legally saddled with the unwanted, lost omega? Mir’s heart stuttered. What if Tor manifested as an omega? Were they, right now, in Hell?

The carriage rocked as Tavish got down from the front and climbed in beside Mir.

Mir carried on staring at the card. They’d been terrified of seeing Makish just a few hours ago, and now they’d never see him again.

Tavish lifted the document out of Mir’s unresponsive hand. Say you didn’t know, please say this wasn’t what you were hiding, and why you made me close the curtains as we passed the farm.

“I’m sorry you had to find out like this. I was going to tell you, I really was, but with all the rush to get down here, and you being so far along…” He trailed off.

Crash and burn.

“Oh, shit, sorry. She didn’t know about her famous brother? Where has she been living, under a rock?”

Mir’s gaze shot to Clay, but everything they wanted to say stayed locked inside. Famous? What could Corish be famous for? Fuck, it has to be something so fucking bad that he thought he had to hide it.

This was what Tavish had been concealing earlier and had tried to hide from them just now. Tavish must have known exactly where Mir came from, and yet he’d pretended he didn’t know they would be going through their hometown to keep them calm like an obedient, grateful omega. He’d accused Clayen of being a master manipulator, but it appeared the trait ran in his family, a family he’d consciously hidden.

“I’m sorry, I should have told you. I asked a friend if they could find out anything about you after you mentioned your siblings’ names and dates of birth. They sent me back an article in a beta magazine.

“Your brother bought your guardianship from your father, and he’s quite a prominent figure, along with his beta twin, in the omega rights movement, because of you. From what you said, I didn’t think the stress of thinking about them was a good idea, but I was going to tell you when the babies were born.”

“My Pa’s not dead?” Mir asked in bewilderment.

“To be honest, I’ve got no idea, but he was alive when your guardianship passed to your brother. Corish has done very well for himself; he’s a lawyer, and Toren is an investigator. They’ve made a lot of enemies, and they would want to use you to prove a case. You could be paraded in front of the press; the triplets would be—”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” Mir interrupted, not wanting to hear how he’d made decisions for them, how Corish would do the same. What Mir wanted didn’t matter, had never mattered.

“It’s not fine; you’re pale as a ghost. Talk to me Mir. What’s going on in that head of yours?”

Tavish sounded a little frantic, which he shouldn’t be considering he was about to confront his family, a family that didn’t know he’d alphaed. Mir blinked as they realized what else the papers had said. Tavish had claimed the babies as his. It didn’t stop the legal facts of Mir belonging to Corish, and the babies belonging to their genetic father or fathers. If Corish was so into omega rights, if Mir ever met him, he’d want to know where all their scars came from.

Either Tavish would have to admit he’d abused Mir, or Mir would have to admit their past. If they DNA-tested the babies, it’d come out anyway. The Owner would find Mir and the triplets. That couldn’t happen. Mir had been stolen before, and they’d do it again.

“Mir? Talk to me. So help me, Clay, if you’ve made Mir close down again, I will—”

“I’m fine, it was just a shock to see it written down. Thank you so much for doing this, Tavish, Clayen.” Mir nodded at both and managed a smile, then added, “We’d better go, your family will be waiting.”

“I hate to say it, but she’s right. They know what train you were on, although they think you’re on your own, and they don’t know about…” Clayen indicated Tavish’s groin with a wave of his hand.

Tavish groaned. “Come on then, let’s get it over with. You and I can have a long talk later, Mir.”

“You do know they are going to call her Mirelle, don’t you?” Clayen said. They held their hands up in a don’t shoot me gesture. “What? It’s automatic. Despite the hair and clothes, there is no disguising she needs a wide load sticker on her ass.”

Mir watched as Tav started an animated argument about the validity of pronouns and suffixes with his sibling as Clayen got the horses moving again. Discarded and forgotten, even though they was the subject of the debate, Mir packed the new information about their siblings and sire away.

Just as they hadn’t told Tavish all the details about Hell to protect the triplets, keeping hidden from Tor and Cor, Toren and Corish, idiot, was just as important. Mir had never forgotten the story Makish told about the owner of a wandering cow’s calf. Pups belonged to the genetic sire, unless he disowned them. And, despite what the pretty certificates Clayen had produced showed, the triplets belonged to their genetic father or fathers, whoever they were.